Home to Stay (The Long Road Home #2) - Maryann Jordan Page 0,47

another overseas assignment during that time, and I couldn’t help but think that he sometimes resented the chains of being a single father. When I was thirteen, in Maine for the summer, he was on a training mission in California. There was an accident and his vehicle rolled down an embankment. I remember the man who came to the door to inform my grandparents that my dad had been killed.”

“Just when I think your story can’t get any worse, it does,” Lucy said. “And I feel like I’ve said ‘I’m sorry’ constantly, but I truly am.”

“Thanks, but it was a long time ago. Fuckin’ gutted me at the time, but after twenty years, I just hang on to my good memories and don’t agonize about what could have been.”

“That sounds pretty wise. Why do I get the feeling that perhaps your grandparents helped teach you that?”

Laughing, he said, “Just wait till you meet my grandfather. He’s a goodhearted man, but he believes in moving on through life no matter what it throws at you.”

“I hope I do get to meet him.” She leaned closer, her eyes lit by the lights from the dashboard.

If they were anywhere other than the middle-of-the-road, he’d close the distance and kiss her. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “Then I’ll make sure you do.”

“So, that’s how you made Maine your home.”

“Yep. My mom was still living but there was no way I was going to go live with her. So, my grandparents became my guardians, and I spent the next five years with them. My grandfather was the silent type, my grandmother was full of laughter and love. They were opposites, and yet it worked. It was during those years that I got bigger, played sports, did okay in school, and my grandparents made sure to give me unconditional love. But by the time I graduated, I wanted to join the Army. I suppose psychiatrists would have a field day with that decision, saying that I was trying to get close to my deceased father or trying to recreate my childhood. The fact of the matter was I didn’t want to go to college, I didn’t have a particular career I was interested in, and the Army had a place for me.”

“You talk about your grandfather, but…”

What she was trying to ask sent a squeeze to his chest, more than talking about his mom or his dad. “My grandmother died about ten years ago. Since then, it’s just been my grandfather.”

“And now you since you’re home to stay.”

“Yeah, and now me.”

He glanced at the map on the SUV’s computer screen. “We don’t have far to go.”

Lucy shifted again, her head still facing him but resting against the seat. She yawned widely, her hand lifted to pat her lips.

“You should go to sleep,” he encouraged. “It’s after five a.m.”

“But what about you? I need to keep you talking so that you don’t fall asleep behind the wheel.”

A rueful bark of laughter erupted. “I haven’t talked this much about myself in… in… hell, ever!”

“Well, good,” she mumbled, yawning again. “I like learning more about you.”

“Why?” The question slipped out unbidden, and he winced, wishing he could pull it back.

The silence in the SUV was no longer comfortable but charged with electricity that seemed to zap about the space. She remained quiet for several minutes, and he thought perhaps she’d gone to sleep until she finally spoke.

14

He came for me. If nothing else, I owe him honesty. Lucy spoke, her voice soft, barely above a whisper. “I was so excited to have a local soldier that the class could write to. It was supposed to be a lesson for the children, combining history, current events, and community service. I had no idea if someone would write back but was thrilled when you did. After I sent you a picture of the class and in your next letter you sent one of you and some of your buddies, I was… I felt…”

Her voice trailed off, words failing her. John said nothing, and she struggled to gather her thoughts and speak, the heat of self-consciousness burning in her gut.

“It was a picture of you and four of your buddies, but I didn’t need to look at the back of the photograph where you’d indicated which one was you. Just looking at the picture, I knew. It was your eyes. Your expression. The others were all laughing, and while you were also smiling, it was more serious. Your sunglasses were pushed up